Earthquake
by Julia451
Summary: One-shot set during Catching Fire. How did Madge Undersee react when she first heard the news that Gale Hawthorne had been whipped in the square? How did she convince her mother to give up her precious morphling? Gale/Madge Gadge and Haymitch/Maysilee Haysilee


It seemed to take forever before Madge got a chance to sneak out of the house. She didn't know what had drawn the crowd to the square, but her father's refusal to answer any of her questions meant it must be something terrible. Her worst fear (and the most likely possibility) was that it had something to do with Katniss. She had to find out, but the human stampede had changed direction by the time she reached the street. Whatever had happened in the square must be over, but the danger obviously wasn't – people bumped and jostled her every which way as they ran frantically towards their homes.

Madge ran into the center of the throng and grabbed the first person she recognized – a girl from school. "Leevy, what happened?" she asked.

Leevy shook her shoulder free of the other girl's hand. "Sorry, Madge, I'm in a hurry," she said curtly.

Madge followed her as she jogged down the street towards the Seam. "What's going on?"

"Like you don't know!" Leevy hissed at her as she sped up her pace.

Madge sped up, too, undeterred – the wealthy mayor's daughter had gotten used to the hatred of her peers long ago. Her only reaction to the words was to try to find some clue in them. What could she be expected to know? What had she heard her father talking about lately? "Did the new Head Peacekeeper arrive?" she asked.

"Didn't waste any time getting here or getting to work," was Leevy's answer.

"Getting to work on what?" Madge almost demanded, her fears for Katniss rising.

"A whipping, that's what!"

Madge would have thought Leevy was making a cruel joke if she hadn't seen the crowd with her own eyes. So that was what her father hadn't wanted her to see! But there hadn't been whippings in District 12 for years! Why now? Why such a sudden change? Only one thing _had_ changed in District 12 recently. There could only be one reason for them to start cracking down on them, one person they were after...

_No, please, not her, anyone but her._ "A whipping?!" Madge repeated in a plea of desperate disbelief.

"Don't worry if you missed it – there'll probably be another one tomorrow."

It had really happened. Madge was trembling so badly at the thought that she had to stop dead in her tracks. She clutched her arms tightly around herself as the implications – the injustice, the cruelty, the savagery of it – sank in. _What have they done? How can they do this? Why?!_ The sight of Leevy reaching the corner forced her to find her tongue again. "It was Katniss, wasn't it?" she called, taking a few more steps after her.

She saw Leevy stop and turn towards her. Madge heard her say, "No..." and there was a split second of overwhelming relief before she heard her finish: "... Gale Hawthorne." The words stopped her heart and froze her blood. Her body stood still and lifeless as her soul raged and cried out in protest against the thought that would destroy it.

She felt something smack her hard in the face – a tree branch. She felt her feet hitting the ground over and over again and heard them crashing through the snow. A whipping, Gale Hawthorne – the entire universe consisted of nothing more than that image, and anything else belonged to another world that had nothing to do with her. A patch of blood in the snow brought her back to that other world. The sight registered in her brain in the same instant her knees buckled and she found them kneeling on the cold ground. She realized where Leevy's information had blindly driven her.

She just barely let her brain register the image of a whipping post a few yards away. Except for a few Peacekeepers hard at work on something, the square was deserted. Of course he wasn't here. It was over. He was long gone.

What had they done to him? She had to see him. Where would they take him? She knew where he lived, had walked there once with Katniss – if she didn't find him there, she would at least find answers. She pushed herself to her feet and started running again. Unlike the blackout she had just run through, her senses now seemed heightened ten times over, alert to the smallest details of her surroundings. As she raced through the Seam, she picked up whispers of thing like "one turkey," "passed out," "Darius," and "over forty lashes" without even trying, so that before long, she had an all too clear picture of what had happened to Gale and what state he must be in now: "Crazy... back completely torn up... shredded... fileted like a fish... stripped raw... Must've really wanted to break in that new whip... Will he make it?"

The more she heard, the harder her heart pounded until it seemed ready to explode with anger. The senseless evil of the whole thing was simply too much to be possible. In what kind of world was something like this allowed to happen to someone like him?

She never slackened her pace until she caught the sounds of the words "Mrs. Everdeen" and "Victors' Village." Of course! How stupid of her – she should have known that was where they would take him! Hadn't her father turned to Mrs. Everdeen when she'd been sick with croup when she was little? She set her course for the Victors' Village, keeping her eyes open every step for a glimpse of him but hoping he was safely there already. How would he get there? Would anyone be willing to help him, or would they be too afraid? If only she'd been there to help!

_What would you have done?_ some cruel voice whispered in her mind. _You couldn't have stopped them. There was nothing you could have done, and there's nothing you can do now. Even if you find him, what can you do about it? Nothing!_ She looked up at the panicked crowds fleeing before her. Marching slowly and fearlessly among them were sprinkles of white uniforms, brandishing their weapons and barking orders. Their icy glares seemed to tell her they would do as they pleased with her loved ones, and she was powerless to stop them. She exhaled deeply and slumped against the wall of some building to catch her breath. She didn't know where she was, where he was, or what they were planning to do to all of them. What did it matter? There was nothing she could do about it. She wasn't a healer or a fighter. How could she possibly help him? The sense of helplessness weighed so heavily on her, she couldn't move.

_Forget it_, she thought, ordering herself not to cry (years of experience with her mother made that task easy, at least). _They're in control, not you. You can't protect him or anyone. It's too late now._

But surely there must be something she could do now – some way to help him, some way to fight back. Her father was the mayor, after all – if anyone had the means to help him... Madge shook her head mid-thought. She knew it was crazy to think that way; as the mayor, her father had more reason to fear the Capitol than _anyone_ in District 12. There was nothing he could do for Gale or anyone else. Mrs. Everdeen and Prim were the only ones who could help him at the moment, but...

At the thought, a horrifying image, formed from the snippets of conversation she'd recently heard, mercilessly seared her imagination. Madge gripped her head in both hands and breathed hard, suddenly grateful she hadn't been around to see it. She didn't want to think of what state he was in now or how he was suffering. She tried to tell herself it would be okay, that he was in the best possible hands, that they would take good care of him, but her fears would not be silenced. They reminded her that whippings had been unheard of for years and no healer would be prepared for the situation. There was no way they would have everything he needed. They might not have the means to save him! Even if they _could_ save him, he would be in agony for who knew how long?

How much pain must he be in... Madge was no stranger to pain. She'd spent her whole life watching her mother tortured by her agonizing headaches. If the doctors of District 12 could do nothing for the mayor's wife, what hope did Gale have? The harder she tried not to picture Gale in pain even worse than her mother's, the harder it became to do. How long could one endure such pain? Even her mother couldn't bear it without...

Her mind jumped to the next thought without segue: _The Everdeens won't have any_. Without elaborating further, she straightened up and started moving again, not toward the Victors' Village but toward her own street. She knew what he needed more than anything right now. There was only one way they could stop the pain. They couldn't possibly get it, but she could. She knew where to get it easily and safely. Getting it to him safely would be another matter, but never mind that. By the time she reached her door, she knew what she had to do.

She had no plan – only a goal to reach by any means necessary. "Dad! Where are you?" she called out, hoping for no answer. None came – he must have been called to the Justice Building, as she had hoped.

She closed the door softly behind her, as was the custom in their house. "Anyone home?" she called next. Still no answer. She checked every room downstairs. No sign of her mother, the maid, or her father's valet. Had the servants gone home to check on their families already? She was torn between fear at the thought of her mother being left all alone and relief that the house was so empty right now.

Following another important household custom, she tiptoed up the stairs, making as little noise as possible. "Mom? It's Madge. Are you all right?" she whispered as she made her way quietly down the hall. Her father's study was locked. The door to her bedroom was still hanging wide open, as she'd left it in her haste to escape. The door to her parents' bedroom was slightly ajar, as if someone had left in as big a hurry as she had left hers.

At the end of the hall, in the farthest corner of the house, was the windowless room they called her mother's room – set aside for her during bad periods, sometimes entire days, where she waited for the pain to subside to manageable levels before she ventured back into the outside world. The door was always closed, and right now was no exception, but sounds of movement and familiar moans were coming from inside.

Madge didn't even consider knocking; that activity was as taboo in this house as slamming doors. She turned the knob, and the door opened soundlessly on what must be the most thoroughly greased hinges in Panem – no door in this house was permitted to creak, either. "Hello? Mother? It's Madge," she whispered, trying not to startle her.

As she expected, her mother was in bed with the maid in the chair beside her, holding a damp cloth on her forehead. The familiar syringe, a half-empty vial, a pitcher, and a glass were on the nightstand. The box was nowhere in sight; it must have been returned to the drawer already. Madge quickly closed the door behind her, returning the room to its customary semi-darkness. At her entrance, the maid turned towards the door, but her mother closed her eyes tighter and turned her head away from the strip of light that had entered the room, repeating "No more, no more, no more" in between her moans.

Madge's heart sank at the sight and the obstacle it posed to her plan, but she put it aside for the moment, letting her well-trained mind forget its worries as it focused on the situation at hand and nothing else. When entering this room, all emotions were checked at the door. "I didn't know you were still here, Rachel," Madge whispered.

"There was no one else, miss," the maid whispered back. "She lost it right after your father left, and by then, it looked like it would be impossible to get home anyway." Rachel lived near the square with her husband. Madge silently cursed herself for not being here to supervise her mother when she went for the painkiller. "She took it really hard when she heard... well..."

"I know," Madge said as she approached the bed. How did she find out? She knew her father never would have told her. She must have overheard something or sensed something and bullied him into explaining. "How bad?"

"Not so bad now. She's been quiet for a while. When she first heard that... that..."

"I know," Madge repeated. She could easily picture how her mother had reacted to the latest news.

"Where have you been?" Rachel asked suspiciously. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Her voice was calm and steady. "Things have died down a little now. You should go home. Frank's probably worried sick about you. I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure, miss?"

Madge knelt by her mother to make her point. "Yes. You know I can handle it. We'll be fine. Go. Get home before things pick up again." Her mother became agitated. Madge took right her hand in both of her own and rubbed it as she whispered, "I'm here, mother. It's Madge. I'm here."

Rachel took one last look at the woman in the bed and the vial on the nightstand before saying, "All right, if you say so. No more for six hours."

_She'll be asking for more in three_, Madge thought but said nothing except, "Thank you, Rachel," giving the young woman one last grateful hug before she crept out the door. Her mother looked towards it in fright at the sound.

"It's all right, mother," Madge tried to assure her. "I'm here now. Everything's fine." She adjusted the cloth on her forehead and wiped the damp hair out of her eyes. Her mother just groaned in agony. The morphling had apparently calmed her but was unable to penetrate the excruciating pain again. "It's all right, it's all right..." She let her hand go, so Madge got up and checked the bottom drawer of the dresser where they kept a few clothes. There were ten vials in the box that could hold and was usually stocked with twelve. Madge knew they had emptied one yesterday, so Rachel had started from a new, full one today. She closed the drawer, leaving the box on the floor, and turned to the bottle on the nightstand. The maid was more cautious than the patient's husband and daughter and hadn't _quite_ given her what they considered "the safe maximum."

"Water," her mother whispered feebly. "Water..." Madge poured a bit from the pitcher and raised her mother's head as she held the glass to her lips. She cried and mumbled her husband's name as Madge dried her mouth with the towel Rachel had left beside her on the bed.

"He's not home," Madge told her. "I'm here with you, it's okay..."

She only cried harder. "They'll kill him! They'll kill him!"

"Nobody's going to hurt Dad," Madge said, her voice perfectly calm after years of practice. "He's fine, he'll be home soon..." Her mother kept raving about things Madge was helpless to comprehend or address. She opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out the tiny bottle of sleep syrup. This wouldn't do her any good unless she could get the pain down further, but if that started to happen, she had to time it just right so that her mother would be calm and functional enough to swallow it without choking.

Her mother's tears turned into sobs and then wails of agony as she clutched her head in both hands. Madge held her wrists, not trying to stop her, only making sure she didn't draw blood from scratching herself or pull out her hair or otherwise hurt herself, as her years of experience had taught her. "Make it stop!" she begged. "Make it stop!"

Getting her to swallow sleep syrup was out of the question when she was this frantic. She had to calm down first. "It will stop soon, it will stop soon..."

"Make it stop! Please! Why won't you make it stop?!"

Madge kept repeating the words, but this was plainly going to be one of the times they had no effect. She knew if she gave her more now without the standard preparation, it would do nothing. As was the procedure in such cases, she stopped talking and just sat there holding her, letting her scream until she could see the sound itself was making the pain even worse. She dimly remembered a time when the next part had been hard. "It won't stop. It's getting worse." The part where she had to say what was happening anyway was the hardest of all, but she kept her voice in a monotone while she did it. "It's getting worse and worse. Every scream, every word, hurts." Her mother's scream alternated with desperate pleas of, "No, no," but it was too soon to stop. "They're getting louder. Stronger. Feel that pounding? Harder and harder and harder. They hurt so much." Her voice lowered. "It hurts, and it doesn't stop. Every second, it gets worse..." Her expert eyes judged from the rhythm of her mother's screams and movements that her morphling-addled brain had submitted to her voice, accepting her suggestions as fact. "You can't scream anymore. You're done screaming..." The wails stopped, and her limbs relaxed in her daughter's grip. "The screaming has stopped. The pain has stopped. It's getting quieter and quieter... the pain is getting weaker and weaker..."

It was safe to let go now. Without missing a beat, Madge picked up the syringe and filled it until the level in the vial went down to the safe maximum. She shot it into her mother's arm, telling her all the time how, "It's fading away... it hurts less every second... you're in a peaceful, quiet place with no sound and no pain... you can't feel the pain now... you can't remember the pain." Her words were timed so that the half-conscious, drugged brain would accept them as the body began to feel the minor effects of the last boost of painkiller, letting the words kill the pain even though the drug no longer could entirely.

Madge barely managed to stop herself from releasing a forbidden sigh. She hated that routine, but it worked. Her mother lay still except for rolling her head from side to side, moaning with relief. Madge waited to see what would happen next, if her mother would close her eyes and be dead to the world for the next few hours, beg for more, or start talking to Maysilee. She resumed asking for her husband, just as she had before the second attack of pain had begun, indicating she couldn't remember it or what had happened next at all.

"He'll be here in a minute," Madge whispered soothingly. Her mother's eyes widened in surprise – evidently, she didn't remember her daughter was here with her, either. "It's all right, mother," she said softly but casually, holding her hand again. "Everything's okay." It was probably safe to try to get the sleep syrup into her now. As soon as Madge came to this conclusion, she allowed herself to remember what she had come home to get. She had desperately hoped to find her mother sober and lucid, able to properly listen to what she wanted and properly grant her request, but she had been too late. They would have to do it this way, unless... Madge took one look at the box on the floor and realized her first instinct when the idea had first come to her had been correct: she would never be able to live with herself if she stole her mother's medicine.

"Mother, can you hear me?" Her mother didn't reply or open her eyes, but she squeezed her hand. Madge had no idea how to begin. She couldn't remind her mother of what happened today, but she had to explain what she needed somehow. She didn't have to tell her everything. "Mother, I need your help." She saw her stir and her eyes flicker open and then closed again at the words. "I need your help."

Madge waited to see if she understood. She seemed to rally her strength and turned to face her daughter with open eyes. "Mother, do you remember Gale Hawthorne? The boy who brings my strawberries?" There was no response, no glimmer of recognition. "Remember Katniss, Mrs. Everdeen's daughter?" The mention of her friend and her daughter got her attention. "She's my best friend. She stayed with us for a while."

"My herbs..."

"Yes," Madge said hopefully. "She's brought you those herbs from the woods, at the back door. Remember her partner? His father was killed in the big mine explosion six years ago. They bring the rabbits for the stew you like so much. We bought some fish from them once when the market was sold out. Remember them?"

"Her handsome friend... the Seam boy... with the strawberries..."

"Yes, her friend with the strawberries," Madge repeated. "He needs our help right now. Her friend Gale needs our help. Katniss' friend." Her mother remembered her best friend since childhood so well – surely she would want to help her daughter, even in this state. "He's hurt. He's in pain."

Her mother squeezed her hand painfully tightly. "No..."

"It's all right," Madge said quickly. "He'll be all right. He just needs our help." She lifted the box from the floor and placed it on her lap. "He's in a lot of pain, but we can help him." Her mother stared hungrily at the box in her hands, longing for what was inside. Madge was too agitated with fear and worry to plan the best approach and just spoke from her heart to whatever part of her mother was lucid enough to understand. "He needs this, mother. I need you to say I can take it to him because... I can't take it if you don't say I can. I can get more for you tomorrow, but Gale needs this now. Please, mother, can I have some medicine for Katniss' friend?"

Some part of her request had gotten through. Her mother reached for the box. "My morphling... my morphling..."

Madge gulped and got a firm grip on her throat before she spoke again. "Please can I take it to Katniss' friend? He's hurt, he's in a lot of pain, he needs..."

"Mine!" her mother yelled with more energy than Madge would have guessed she had. Madge pulled out of her reach, but she kept her arm stretched out towards it. "It's mine! You can't keep it from me!"

"You can't have any more right now," Madge said wearily. "I'll get you more tomorrow. I just need some now for Gale, please." Her mother started struggling with her, trying to get the box, and Madge knew she'd made a huge mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. "I'll get you a fresh supply like I always do." She had taken over the job of getting supplements from District 12's local dealers whenever her mother's prescription ran out since she was twelve.

"It's mine! Let me have it!"

"You can't. Gale can. Please can I have some?"

"No! It's mine!"

"I promise, I'll..."

"Give it to me! I need it!"

"That's all there is," Madge recited calmly, sticking to the script. "If I get you more tomorrow, can I..."

"You can't do this! I need it! Can't you see how much it hurts?! I need more!"

"Not right now..."

"You don't even care about me! You won't even help your own mother! You don't even care!" Madge restrained herself from shouting something that she'd regret. It was pointless arguing with the drugs. "You like watching me suffer! You want it all for yourself!" _It just the morphling talking_, Madge told herself, like always, wondering how she could possibly reach her mother now. "Give it back! It's mine! It's mine! None of you can have it! None of you! I need it! You all want it for yourselves! You're so selfish! Why are you doing this to me?! It's not fair! Give it to me!"

"I'll give it to you in a few hours," Madge told her, maintaining the steadiness of her voice with effort now.

"I need it now!"

"No, you don't. Gale does, but you won't give him a drop." What did it matter what she said out loud now?

"That's not my fault!"

"It's not mine, either, but I still want to help," said Madge, her indifference making it easier to keep her voice even.

"Why do you care?! Who's gonna take care of me?! You don't even care about your mother! Why do you care so much about him?!"

"I do care about you. I care about him, too. I love him!" Madge heard the last three words before she realized they came from her own mouth. Her voice had switched of its volition from a monotone to an outburst of pent-up emotion without warning. Before she could figure out where they had come from or what to do, she noticed her mother's wide eyes staring at her and realized they were her mother's true eyes, that something about her outburst had reached her mother through the haze of drugs and registered with her, waking her up.

"I... I love him," Madge repeated timidly. Her mother gasped in surprise. Her real mother was in there somewhere. Something about those words got through to her. Madge had no idea why, but she grasped at the unexpected lifeline. "I love him," she said again, slowly and deliberately, to herself as much as to her mother. She'd vowed over a year ago never to say those words aloud, on the day she broke her vow never to think them; now that she'd been forced to, she savored every syllable.

What next? She had no idea where this would go or what to do with it. She had to keep her mother with her. She frantically kept talking in the same vein that had brought her back: "I've been in love with him for over year. He's so handsome and brave and strong, I couldn't help it. He's been taking care of his family for years, hunting and fishing and gathering... he's a genius." She could tell her mother was hanging on her every word. She went on: "Every time I eat his strawberries, I imagine going out there and picking them with him. Sometimes, I go out to the meadow and sit in the grass, just to be close to the woods where he goes all the time. I loved going there with Katniss, getting to walk the same paths he walks. I imagine how he must look when he shoots a deer or a turkey in there. Sometimes I even dream about it. He's the most wonderful, amazing man I've ever met. I wish he would let me do more to help him, but he's too proud. I think I admire him even more because he's from the Seam..."

"The Seam..." Madge instantly fell silent and listened. "What do you get when town meets the Seam?"

"An earthquake," Madge answered, unsure whether her mother's use of the classic riddle was a good sign or not.

"I told her to be reasonable... it never works out. Why'd she have to love a boy from the Seam?"

Madge realized with a jolt and a gasp what her mother was thinking of. "Yes, mother, Gale's from the Seam, too." Was it cruel to say what she was about to say? She didn't know. She didn't have time to care. "I love Gale just like Aunt Maysilee loved Haymitch." She leaned over her mother and held her head so that it was facing her and the blonde hair, blue eyes, and face that looked just like her twin sister's. "Remember how much Maysilee liked that rugged, handsome boy from the Seam? You told me all about how she admired him for taking care of his mother and brother after his father died. You teased her about it all the time. You told her it would never work out, but she didn't care – she never hoped for anything, she knew he thought she was just another snob from town." Her mother didn't cry or struggle or get agitated, only stared at her with undivided attention. "They were reaped together – when you said good-bye, she tried to joke that she would get to be closer to him than she ever expected. You told me about her interview, how they asked her if there was a special boy back home, but you knew she would never tell them the truth, she would never share something so precious with those bloodthirsty Capitol pigs. She saved his life, remember? They became partners. They protected each other as long as they could. She could have killed him like the Career and gotten herself one step closer to victory, but she saved him."

Madge paused for breath. She knelt on the floor as she clasped her mother's hands and pleaded, "I need to save Gale, mother. You can help me save him, just like Maysilee saved Haymitch. Please let me take him some. I'll replace it tomorrow." Her mother reached up and stroked her cheek; for some reason, this made Madge realize there were tears in her own eyes – a major breach of etiquette in this room. "They've hurt him, just like they hurt Maysilee. We can't let them get away with it. We have to stop them. Please, please let me help him! I'll do anything, just let me take it to him!"

"You had to pick a boy from the Seam..."

Was she talking to her or Maysilee? "Yes, just like Maysilee," Madge replied cautiously.

Her mother's mouth curved into a weak but unmistakable grin as she said, "It never works out..."

Madge tried to smile back. She repeated the words from the story she'd heard so many times: "I don't care; it's not like I've ever hoped for anything." She added some new words of her own, though: "I only hope I can save him."

Her mother was still stroking her face. "Poor Margaret... it never works out."

Madge felt a thrill of hope at hearing her full name. She straightened up and picked the box up again, placing it on the edge of the bed. "I need to save him, mother. Let me take him some medicine. I can't just let him suffer. Please, can I take some?" Still grinning, her mother pushed the box slightly towards her. Madge could have collapsed with relief, but she settled for a deep sigh. "Thank you, mother, thank you so much! I'll be back soon, I promise!"

Madge quickly put the syringe, the open vial, and four full vials in the bottom drawer to last them until she could go pick up a fresh supply; no matter how the Peacekeepers were cracking down on the black market, nobody could fully quash the demand for morphling by those who were able to pay for it like they were. She locked the drawer and put the key in her pocket. She had to hurry before her mother could change her mind. She turned to the nightstand and poured out a spoonful of sleep syrup. "You should get some sleep now." It was a phrase of all four of her nurses used like a code.

Her mother gave the expected countersign: "Yes, please," and let Madge give her the medicine. The stuff acted quickly, but it seemed to take forever this time before Madge could finally tell that her mother was truly asleep. She kissed her forehead and tiptoed out of the room with the box containing six precious vials of medicine in her hands.

Once she was downstairs, she put on her boots and coat at lightning-fast speed. Dusk was falling when she set out. She didn't give herself time to worry about the snowstorm forming outside her door or the Peacekeepers who could be lurking anywhere, looking for more criminals to test their new equipment on. She just pulled up her hood, closed the door, and started running, keeping her head down and her arms closed tightly around the box.

She forbade herself to feel the cold or to wonder how many more lashes contraband morphling was worth compared to contraband game. She shoved everything out of her mind except the short route to the Victors' Village. She wondered if this was what running away from the Cornucopia felt like – the urgency to move forward without looking back, despite the simultaneous urge to constantly look over your shoulder at who you were certain was following you. She ignored it all, letting nothing distract her from the command to, _Run, run, run!_ Her best chance at safety, at getting there without being caught, at getting this to him before it could be seized, lay in being on the streets as short as possible. Speed was everything.

Her first instinct when she felt herself flying forward was to clutch the box more tightly against her chest. She hit the ground hard on her left side. Her heart pounding, she peered under the lid at the glass contents – all were still intact. Thank God they hadn't broken! She pushed herself to her feet and ran on as fast as ever; it was pointless to try to look out for ice in this storm.

She only slipped once more, but she had a tree to steady herself that time. She ran into nothing and no one else before she found herself passing under the metal arch above the entrance to the Victors' Village. Her eyes darted in every direction as she approached Katniss' house – no place in the district was more likely to be surrounded by Peacekeepers. With every step, she expected a squad to leap from the shadows, arrest her, and confiscate Gale's medicine, but she reached the front door without incident. She hoped they weren't busy whipping someone else.

She hammered the doorbell over and over. _Come on, come on_, she begged them. _Hurry, hurry!_ Every second she stood here, Gale was suffering! _Hold on, Gale, just a little longer..._

Her panic shut off like a switch, however, when the door opened, her mind instantly rallying for the next part of her mission. There was no time for discussion – she thrust the box into a bewildered Katniss' hands. She told her to use them for "her friend," hoping her choice of words would erase any objection to taking the offering and any suspicion of her true motives – she was helping her best friend's friend, and that was it. She didn't dare say what it was in case anyone was watching or listening, but she gave Katniss a hint by saying it was her mother's. She told her she had permission to take it so they wouldn't hesitate from fear of it being stolen. She wished she could go inside and see him but knew that would be the most foolhardy move she could make, potentially for his and Katniss' safety and definitely for her secret's. She made one last uncontrollable plea for them to give it to Gale and ran off before they had a chance to refuse it. The last thing she was aware of before she turned away was the sight of Haymitch's gray eyes, looking at her like she was crazy.

She thought of those eyes as she ran home, no longer worried about being caught now that she'd completed her mission. _Is this how it felt, Aunt Maysilee?_ she asked, thinking of the story of how she'd felled that Career to save the boy from the Seam. Every reaping, as soon as she heard those horrible words "Ladies first!", Madge prayed that she would be as brave as her aunt. Was what she did tonight brave, or just reckless and stupid? She didn't care. She didn't care that Gale would never forgive her if he found out what she did, let alone why she did it. He was out of pain by now, and that was all that mattered.

She would risk anything for the boy from the Seam.


End file.
